In the Darkness of the Light
by Shadow Wolf22
Summary: Dante has to make a choice, that will change the world
1. Default Chapter

This is my first DMC fic, so please don't flame it too badly. But please revew!  
  
The sun shone an eerie red through the windows of the waiting room as Dante Sparda paced back and forth. The red light painted the room with blood; bring back the horrible visions that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Vividly the scenes replayed themselves, so vividly that he could still smell the blood, and feel it slick on his hand. Looking down at his hands, he found impossibly that they were clean, they were clean, but he could still feel the sticky warmth on them. Was he losing his mind? But what difference did that make, sane or insane, it was still his fault.  
  
He hadn't expected them to attack Devil Never Cry, why would they when he had walked purposefully into their trap, he had given them their damn victory. He would have died to save his family. But that had not been enough for them. Why? He didn't know. All he knew was what he had gotten from the Priest, something about balancing the scales. Total nonsense and giving absolutely no explanation of the brutal act that led him to the hospital. Damn it all, he just wished he had something to kill. Marionettes, Sins, and Goats he could handle, but the things humans could do were a thousand times worst. He had to admit he was ready to leave the human race to its own devices should more demons arise.  
  
"Dante Sparda." asked a voice from behind the devil hunter. Quickly Dante spun to face the source of the voice, the man that had first addressed him when he brought her in. A middle aged, salt and peppered doctor by the name of Smith.  
  
"Yes?" Dante replied, not really acknowledging that the raspy croak of a word had come from his throat.  
  
After Dante's reply, Dr. Smith took a moment to steady himself; which constituted in him taking a few deep breaths, cleaning his large circular glasses, and blinking a few times. Then once steadied he signaled Dante to follow him, and he took off through the waiting room doors. Keeping pace with the 5' 7" doctor, Dante sighed out of frustration and deeper still, sorrow, because a doctor does not take one away from the waiting room for good news.  
  
After the longest three minutes of walking in Dante's life, the doctor stopped outside of a room with a heavy iron door and fumbled hopelessly for his keys, until Dante reached out with a hand and tried the knob, which left the door gaping.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Dante sat after entering into the room, or rather doctor's office. The latter of which Dante deduced by the décor of numerous certificates, diplomas, and other educational paraphernalia that exclaimed the competence of Dr. Roger Smith. Besides these adornments and the chair in which he sat Dante made brief notice of a rather rickety aluminum desk filled with papers, pens, paperweights, and other bobbles. Taking his seat behind the desk, the doctor took a few more breaths.  
  
"Mr. Sparda," he began, taking a breath "we have tried all that we can to stabilize your wife and have been quite successful."  
  
For a moment he simply let the words hang there, with all the comfort, compassion, and yes even pride with which they had come out. Then when he saw that the man's expression had not changed he knew there was no reason in keeping up pretenses.  
  
"The truth is this Mr. Sparda, we have stabilized your wife, but the bullet has caused enormous internal damage, damage that given her condition could be life treating if she goes through with a natural birth."  
  
Years seemed to pass by as the doctor found himself searching the face of Dante Sparda, a face that looked young, maybe in his late twenties, but had eyes that looked ancient. All the sorrow, doubt, and yes even fear in the two glacial orbs was that of age, which could only be expected in the current circumstances, but made the doctor nervous none the less. They made him even more nervous when they locked on him, freezing his blood.  
  
"Doctor, what did she tell you?" Dante asked in the same raspy croak the doctor had heard earlier.  
  
"That she wants to have the children and something about your family's children not being able to survive an unnatural birth. Any truth to that?"  
  
For a moment Dante was compelled to tell him everything, about his being a half devil, about his wife being a pure breed, and about the tendency devil or demon children had to die when removed from the womb rather that being born, but he resisted. It would have made things easier, maybe, but it would take too long to prove the existence of devils gathering the energy to trigger, and anyway a hospital wasn't the best place for such an act. So he decided against it and instead simply answered.  
  
"Yeah, there is a lot of truth to it."  
  
"Well then Mr. Sparda, that makes our options extremely limited." Dr. Smith sighed, a genuine sigh that made Dante think a little bit better of the medical field in general.  
  
Once again the uncomfortable silence fell on the room, uncomfortable for Dante because he could imagine a thousand things going wrong in her care and uncomfortable for Dr. Smith because it gave him time to run over the information he had to relate to Dante.  
  
"Mr. Sparda," Dr. Smith said once again to catch Dante's attention, then took another steadying breath "as I have just said she wants to have the children, but-" He didn't finish as Dante cut him off.  
  
"But the final choice is mine right?"  
  
The doctor nodded in consent. It was then that reality hit Dante Sparda, a reality harder than Phantom's backside, the reality that he would have to pick between the lives of his wife and his yet to be born children. With all that, Dante couldn't help but fall back into his earlier anger and hatred. The hatred of those who had done this, the hatred of the Protectors of Dumary Island. 


	2. Chapter 2

Woohoo, I actually got some reviews for this story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Really I'll keep going as long as someone wants to read. I forgot this in the first chapter so I'll do it now.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of DMC, but I do own my original characters.  
  
Donovan (one of my OCs and an occasional muse): No you don't!  
  
Demona (likewise): He doesn't own us!  
  
Shadow Wolf22: I do own you, and if you don't believe me try doing something without me writing it.  
  
Donovan and Demona: *unable to move*  
  
Shadow Wolf: Like I said, but enough of this. Its time to start the fic.  
  
The city of Angel Falls, New York was a small town. Well small city, about a four hour drive from New York City.  
  
Looking at it, any visitor could only wonder why anyone would want to live in the God forsaken place. It was dirty. On the verge of dilapidation, with each of the buildings showing signs of rust, weathered paint, and cracked or strained window glass. The streets were likewise shabby, boasting an abundance of pot holes, cracks, and graffitied street signs. And as if that wasn't bad enough, there were the strange occurrences. Unpredictable storms and winds. The strange howls and moans at night. And worst of all, the numerous disappearances. So yes it was God forsaken, but that was the reason many of its in habitants lived there, including Dante Sparda.  
  
At the moment Sparda was in the Angel Sanctum Hospital, the area's one and only hospital that was unfortunately located on the other end of town from Devil Never Cry. Unfortunately, not only because of the night's transpired events, but because at that moment Dante couldn't possibly have known about the two motorcycle engines as they died outside of his front door.  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
The room temperature dropped drastically, or at least it seemed that way to Dante Sparda, because how else could a block of ice have formed in the pit of his stomach. And why else would he have felt a chill at the doctor's "I'll give you sometime to think about it Mr. Sparda."  
  
But if the temperature had dropped, it seemed Dr. Smith hadn't noticed because he was sweating profusely, even as he stood from his desk and once again motioned for Dante to follow. This time it took "Mr. Sparda" a few moments before he could follow and when he did, he found that his demonic senses had kicked in.  
  
He could smell, hear, and sense every inch of the ER, and it did little to ease his mind. This was another reason he disliked hospitals, though normally it wouldn't have been a problem to simply seal the insanely acute senses away, but for some reason he couldn't now. It brought back memories of his mother, of Virgil, and of the hospital in which he had believed both had died. He had been unable to control his senses then as well. He had felt the pain and misery of nearly everyone in that ER. And he had felt his mother's death.  
  
Now it was once again all the same, the pain, misery, and awash in the sea of others was her. She was in pain, the painkillers they had given her were nearly ineffective against her demonic immune system, and there was nothing he could do for her. The last of these, being pure realization. Then to Dante's surprise, he picked up three energy signals that couldn't have been more out of place among the sea of pain, three signals that held none of the weakness, or despair that permeated the place. Three very familiar energy signals that brought the most miniscule and unconscious wisp of a smile to his lips.  
  
It wasn't long after Dante had felt their presence that he and the doctor returned to the waiting room. And in the waiting room he found them there. Three figures sitting patiently, two men and a woman, all with the same expression of concern. Of the three, the taller of the two men spotted him first and responded accordingly by getting to his feet.  
  
As he approached, Dante forced a smile for his benefit, and sat in the waiting room chair closest to the door from which he had entered the room. The man, whom was roughly the same build and body type as Dante, took the one beside him. But first he slid off his silver trench coat to make sitting easier.  
  
"How is she?" the man asked softly.  
  
"Not good." Dante answered curtly.  
  
The man nodded, in understanding and brushed a bit of his flaxen hair out of his emerald eyes, which immediately locked on to Dante. Which brought Dante to wonder just how much he understood? But then it didn't matter, when dealing with this man Dante knew he should never assume anything.  
  
"So, how did you find out?" Dante asked, trying for casual conversation, which was only a common courtesy.  
  
"Specter called us after he left you." The man played along, indicating the other man across the room still seated with the woman.  
  
"But you're wearing--" Dante began, but was cut off with a wave of the man's hand.  
  
"Yeah. We were fighting." the man confirmed, explaining the donning of his very Dante-esq. combat garb. This included his silver leather trench, like wise silver leather pants, black button shirt, and black combat boots.  
  
Dante assumed he had left his sword, and gun outside, like Dante himself had done.  
  
"What was up?" Dante continued, now finding himself stretching to keep the conversation away from where he knew it was heading.  
  
"Nothing much, just some Sins and an Abyss Goat terrorizing the citizens of New York City." the man replied as casually as he could muster, also trying to keep the conversation away from the reason they were there.  
  
This however could not last, and both knew it, so it was Dante that spoke next, getting to the heart of the matter.  
  
"Merrick," he said addressing the man "she is in a bad way. They say that if she has the children she'll die."  
  
With the words out, Dante felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest but from the look on his face, it seemed that it had merely been moved from his chest to Merrick's head. But the look of shock and pain didn't last long, and instead faded into a look of compassion. A compassion that was suddenly littered with very familiar mannerisms, ones that Dante recognized from his brother Virgil.  
  
It was then that for the first time, Dante saw a large part of his brother, other than physically in the White Lighter Merrick. The man Merrick was in actuality a fusion of soul and angel, a White Lighter, a kind of divine devil hunter that balances the scales of good and evil. Merrick was created when, his brother Virgil had agreed to atone for his evil actions, by merging with the Angel Sisyphus. A fusion that as far as Dante knew would last until their time on Earth was up. This of course had only been a story to Dante until now, but looking into the emerald eyes of the White Lighter now, he had no doubts about the claim Merrick had made to him. He was talking to his brother.  
  
"Is there anything that they can do?" Merrick asked.  
  
"Yeah, they can ask me to choose between my children and my wife." Dante said bitterly, and not caring about his sour tone.  
  
This caught Merrick off guard, so much so in fact that it was a few moments before he spoke again.  
  
"I'm sorry man-I mean we should have been," Merrick began, but was cut off.  
  
"If you guys had been here, it wouldn't have mattered. Trust me."  
  
From the cold certainty in Dante's voice, he did believe him.  
  
"Still Dante I wish that I could do something."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I could try healing her with my white light."  
  
"Will that work on her? A devil I mean." Dante asked, having seen Merrick use his other form only once on a dying human girl.  
  
"Don't know, and anyway if it works or not won't be up to us." Merrick replied, not bothering to explain who it would be up to, as he looked upward. **************************************************************************** *********  
  
Allen Bradley smiled as he stepped down the stairs of his Angel Falls law office on to the tattered concrete mess that went for a sidewalk in the shabby city. He smiled the wide pleased grin of a man in perfect peace with himself and his environment, and he was, well in peace with his environment anyway. Because Allen was far from being a man, in reality he was a wolf demon known as a Lupin, and as far as his environment went, what could have been better than getting off with Dante Sparda held up in the hospital? His stomach had been grumbling since he had first gotten the e- mail from Dora, an Aryan demon that worked on the second story of the A- Falls Law Offices of Cronose & Craven. At first Bradley had thought it a joke, but as he turned the corner away from his office, he could do nothing but smile. Devil May Cry was as desolate as the grave. Dark and cold both be sensed from the former burlesque house, yes it had been a burlesque house, and Bradley could remember when it was. He had had great hunting then, all those pretty little girls, with their costumes and curvaceous bodies, the thought of it made his mouth water, and he couldn't believe it had been only a hundred years ago. The hunting had been great then on these nasty streets, but then Sparda had shown up, he had always been a wet blanket, even when he had been one of Mundus's Generals, but he had become ten times that after developing a conscience. And now Bradley found himself having to put up with his half-human brat, patrolling the city and taking jobs. The last hundred years in Angel Falls for him had been hell, correction less fun than hell.  
  
But as Bradley spotted the two motorcycles in front of DMC, he vowed that it would be different, if only for tonight. After all, when the cat's away the mice will play. So Bradley put his noise to the wind and caught the scent almost immediately and he was off down the rather un-kept ally way off to the left of DMC. Bradley rushed down the ally, ignoring the various forms of human waste that slowly began to mar the pant leg of his gray business suit, and ignored the various scents of human depravity. He was on the hunt, and little by little his body began changing to fit the self inflicted mind set. He could feel his human skin tearing and ripping, as his own true muscles began to stretch and flex, he even watched as huge portions of it fell like so much dust to the murky gray stone below. Then he watched as his bristly fur began to shoot out in clumps from the tattered skin that remain and he laughed. The transformation, or rather shedding of his human skin didn't take much longer, and he was fully beast when he reached his target.  
  
It was a kid, about seventeen or eighteen Bradley guessed and she was dressed in what the demon referred to as Goth/Punk garb. The woman had black hair with deep blue dyed streaks, soft cute facial features, and a slight smile. She was about 5'9", wore skin tight black leather, a corset and pants with a trench coat topping it off. The leather caressed and held her curves perfectly, he found himself thinking. "Lucky pants", then "Damn it I've been playing human too long." Still no matter how long he had been playing human, he wouldn't hesitate in his evisceration and consumption of her; well maybe he would have some fun with her. This thought brought a smile to his lupine lips and it was with this in mind that he charged. He erupted from the entrance north entrance to the ally way, four hundred and twenty pounds of pure animalistic muscle with glowing red/orange eyes. The girl as expected, made a dash toward the south entrance, only to have him catch her by the collar of her trench.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" He growled his hot putrid breath a steam cloud in the cold air. But it was to his surprise as the girl looked up into his feral eyes, and he realized that there was still a smile on her lips. Then she relied, "I'm not going anywhere, but you are."  
  
This in turn brought a deep puffing sound from the throat of the wolf demon, an inhuman sound that was obviously laughter.  
  
"Oh do tell..where am I going exactly?" the monster asked as he opened his jaw to receive the tender flesh of her throat.  
  
"To hell."  
  
Bradley turned instantly, just in time for the bullet to his him square in the eye, and sending a spray of blood, bone, and brain all over the wall to his left.  
  
The gun man smiled, for indeed it was a gun "man". He was about the girl's age, sharing her sense of fashion in a more masculine sense, and sporting long lime green locks. Stretching, he slowly worked out kinks in the lean ropey muscles of his athletic frame and extended a his left hand to the woman who now sat covered in gore on the ally floor, while he holstered the red and black chrome plated hand gun into its holster at his right hip.  
  
"Need some help love?" he teased in an English accent, shooting her a smug smirk as he did so.  
  
"Screw you Hynrick, you bloody bastard." she snarled, English as well.  
  
"Oh come on Sukura, you know I would have let you have him, but I was worried when you let him grab ya." Hynrick said in a rather amused apology, that was really no apology.  
  
"I said screw you wanker." She pouted, sill angry.  
  
"Don't be like that love," He said keeling, and taking her into his arms "I'll let you have fun with the werewolf when we catch him, if you cheer up."  
  
With that promise the woman Sukura seemed to lighten up, she got to her feet, managed to get all the largest pieces of gore from her clothes and smiled. She had a really nice smile; it never failed to flutter him, and did so at that moment as she reached for him. For a moment he though she might still be angry, and had simply smiled to get within striking distance of himself with her Kantars, but that worry soon abandoned Hynrick as she smiled again and hugged him tight.  
  
"Do you really mean it?" She asked excitedly, like a child being promised a candy store.  
  
"Yeah." Was his reply and she hugged him again and kissed him deeply.  
  
He ignored the wolf demon blood on her lips and returned the kiss with interest, until they both came away panting.  
  
"I know the first thing I'll do with him too, for hounding after that Vampire bitch, even after I offered to let him join us." She said belligerently.  
  
"Quite the scornful little thing aren't we?" He taunted again with a smile.  
  
"Yes I am," she replied in complete seriousness "but then that's why you love me, because I'm a mean spirited bitch."  
  
"You got me there."  
  
"I know." Was her reply.  
  
It was then that she molded herself against his steel hard chest and yawned.  
  
"Come on love. You have the files," she said indicting a flip folder in his hands that was not completely free of blood "and the werewolf won't get too far on foot. So let's not go get some sleep!"  
  
Even as she said this he caught her mischievous grin and caught her by the waist, carrying her toward the bikes, though he doubted they would make it back to the hotel. **************************************************************************** **********  
  
Demona Wrath sighed as she ran all out across the roof tops of the rather dilapidated factory district of Angel Falls with all the speed and agility allotted her by her vampire heritage; it was a sound of sorrow, and of loss, a loss so profound that she didn't think it possible to feel it for someone still alive. Though feel it she did, and it was like a fire, consuming and licking at her at the same time. Only this fire could never truly take her, it could only leave her asking why? Why had Donovan done what he did, no more importantly how had he? He hated guns, and even more deeply he hated death, that was the reason he had trained so hard with magiks, so he could banish the demons he defeated rather than kill them. He had refused even to kill something so low and evil as the Underworld demons and devils. That then that was how he was, naïve, thinking that he could save everybody all the time, but then amazingly enough he always had. That is until earlier tonight, earlier he had shot Dante's wife, she had seen it with her own eyes and now she found herself chasing her own partner, the kid that had been like a son to her as long as she could remember.  
  
"Donovan I'm sorry for what I'll have to do." She said grimly to the wind, praying that the night would some how pass the words on; because she knew she could never say them when she saw him again.  
  
Ha-ha, I finally got the second chapter finished *does happy dance*, I can't believe it and I wrote my two favorite OCs into the story.  
  
*Looks to Donovan and Demona*  
  
D&D: *Look freaked at the far to happy author*  
  
Oh well, please review!!! 


	3. Character Lists

Well boys and girls, I just realized I have an over abundance of original characters in this one, so I'm writing this character guide, to let you know who they are, and to explain them (incase I don't do well enough in the story doing so).  
Demona Wrath  
  
Species: Vampire Hair Color: Red Eye Color: Green Height: 5'11" Age: 218 (looks about 20)  
  
Demona is the orphaned daughter of the Vampire queen Donna Wrath. When their world, Xanadu was destroyed two hundred years ago by mysterious creatures known as the Vanguard, Demona was the only survivor of the Vampire royal family. When the world's survivors escaped to the world of Earth, the teenage Demona saved two children by the names of Donavan and Tara. Then after a time on the streets, the children found Tara's father. The demon lord Talis, whom took in the two orphans and trained them to be his peace keepers. She is now a protector, after saving the life of one born into the life.  
  
Donovan Wrath Species: Werewolf Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Gold Height: 6'7" Age: 206 (looks about 19)  
  
Donovan is an orphan saved by Demona, whom later became his adopted mother and partner as peace keepers. Donovan is a complex individual whom has nearly no memory of his life before meeting Demona, Talis, and Tara. Despite this he has become a fighter of nearly unmatched prowess and despite the nature of his battles as a peace keeper he seems to always avoid killing enemies. He followed Demona, joining the ranks of the protectors.  
  
Merrick Species: White Lighter Hair Color: Blond Eye Color: Emerald Green Height:6'1" Age: 7 (looks about 25)  
  
Merrick is a White Lighter, or divine devil hunter, created to balance the scales between good and evil. White Lighters come from the source of all life, so are as natural as they are supernatural. They are born, mature rapidly, and they die, though the latter is a bit more difficult than the first, because White Lighters cannot die until they have accomplished a task appointed them by the almighty. The only problem with this is that this goal is never told.  
  
How can someone complete a task they do not know?  
  
The answers to this question are time, which White Lighters have an abundance of, and faith. Faith that comes for both the angel and the soul whom is now one being. Merrick is the being born of the angel Sisyphus, and the soul of Dante's brother Virgil.  
  
Specter Species: Demon Hair: black Eyes: Gold Height:6'3" Age: Unknown (looks 18)  
  
Specter is from the fox clan of demons whom are all quite adept at magic and Specter himself is a powerful mage. When you add this with his love of science and his sometimes womanizer of an alter ego, the Fox, you get a rather unique individual. Using this knowledge of both magic and science, Specter creates weapons and equipment for his idol, Dante Sparda to thank Dante for defeating the former devil king Mundus.  
  
Hynrick Species: Human Hair: (Brown) dyed Green Eyes: Light Brown Height: 6' 0" Age: 21  
  
Hynrick is a gun wielding maniac, whom unlike most of his fellow Protectors was born into the order. Most of the others became members by the other routes; which include saving the life of a member, being appointed by a dying member, and running the gauntlet of the Protectors. As the only born member of the current Protectors, Hynrick is considered the leader. But his fellow Protectors consider him a liability, because despite his life of training and discipline. He is reckless and wild, putting the lives of victims in danger sometimes to simply be sure he has eradicated what he calls devil infestations. He wields two demonic energy enhanced pistols called Blood 9 and Shadow 8, to lethal efficiency.  
  
Sukura  
  
Species: Human Hair: Black with dark blue streaks Eyes: Ocean Blue Height: 5' 9" Age: 20  
  
Sukura is a female equivalent to Hynrick, a complete wild woman. She however was not born a Protector, she became one according to the final wish of the former leader of the Protectors Uma, or at least the testimony of that event from the current leader Hynrick. She is now Hynrick's closest ally and lover. She is as lethal as he with her twin Katars, Necro and Nègro.  
  
There are two more protectors, that I have in mind, but I think I'll let those be a surprise to those who will read this fic. 


End file.
